At almost the last minute Luke reconsidered and stuck the shell in his duffel bag just before he left for the airport. A shell that didn’t represent anything—except perhaps his own outward appearance. He probably looked intact, but inside, he felt hollow and empty.
He thought about Penny. He couldn’t blame Joe for breaking off with her. If Luke had been the one in Hawaii, he, too, would have—if things had been reversed. He would have written, I met this girl.
But Luke had not met a nineteen-year-old girl. He had met a twenty-four-year-old woman who had a child and was a beautiful person. One who was loving and responsible and had never intended to hurt anyone. A woman he’d shared his heart with, who showed him fun and laughter and courage. At Pearl Harbor, she had said there was no place in her life for his parents.
Now she was willing to find out how they would react to her and Little Joe. He knew there was no place in her life for him, except as an uncle to Little Joe.
He could easily fall in love with her. But it was not him who Amelia loved. Maybe he would take that shell to the Ohio River and throw it in. Turn around and settle down with Penny.
Settle?
Matilda had questioned that.
He and Penny shared a spark of friendship. He’d told Amelia he wanted a spark in his life, knowing a spark could become a flame. But a spark could also become a dying ember, could it not?
Penny picked him up from the airport.
On the drive home he told her about the places he’d gone.
“When Joe wrote and broke off with me,” Penny said, “I knew there had to be more to it than his not being ready to settle down. Did you find out if he had a girl there?” She laughed at her own question. “He always had a girl.”
Luke didn’t want to tell her about Amelia’s private life and Little Joe. This was a family matter.
But he told her about the Amelia he’d come to know, the tour guide, the lovely fun girl, the preacher’s daughter. He told about Matilda.
He kept talking, wondering how he could tell Penny that she was a wonderful person but he knew he couldn’t love her like she deserved. He had been selfish to think of settling down with her.
When they arrived at his parents’ home, he started to get out, but Penny sat with both hands clutching the wheel.
“Are you coming in?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so, Luke. Do you have another minute?”
“Sure.” He took his hand off the door handle. “You’re different.” “How’s that?”
She shrugged a shoulder and smiled sweetly. “I see something in you I’ve never seen before. A wistfulness, if a man can be wistful. Always before, you knew exactly who you were and what you would do. You became a marine to please your dad, an architect to make a good living. You had a desire to have a girl waiting for you. Everything right.” She looked over at him. “From what you’ve told me, you’ve settled things with Joe. But something is bothering you.”
He shook his head. “My time in Hawaii was good in many ways. But it was difficult, too.”
She nodded. “This may not be the time, but I want you to know I’ve gone out with a teacher at the school a couple of times.”
She deserved someone who wouldn’t just settle for her. He nodded.
“He loves me.” He was glad.
She touched his arm. “I’ve always loved you, Luke.” “I know. I hope we’ll always be friends. And you,” he added, “you still love Joe.”
Her smile was sweet. “Don’t we all?”
Yes, Luke was thinking. They all did. That was something he’d been jealous of a few times. Now he wanted everyone to love Joe, the young man who had lived life fully, who was never mediocre, never did things in a small way. He begrudged Joe nothing now.
His mom had cooked one of his favorite meals—chicken potpie. The coffee wasn’t as good as Kona, but it was fine. During the meal, he talked mainly about the tsunami destruction and his helping with rebuilding and planning in Hilo. He told about the beauty of Hawaii and how he would show them pictures later and bring out the more serious parts of his visit to the islands.
After they settled in the den, he described how peaceful and beautiful Pearl Harbor looked now. He’d never before told them what Joe had written in his letter, but now he shared that with them as a lead-in to Amelia.
They were glad Joe had spent his last days with a special girl. Luke’s mom, with misty eyes, smiled at his saying she was a preacher’s daughter.
He began to show the pictures. They thought she was beautiful. After they agreed on that, he dropped the first bombshell. “She’s part Japanese.”
He felt his dad’s stare, and his mom looked at the pictures again. “I wouldn’t have known.” Her worried brow smoothed when she looked up. “Did Joe know that?”
“Of course, Mom. Her mother is a beautiful Japanese woman.” He told her what he knew of Akemi, but it didn’t seem to impress his mother. Finally, after a long look at him, she said slowly, “But he knew her before they bombed Pearl Harbor.”
Luke shook his head. “That wouldn’t have mattered to him afterward, Mom.”
She huffed lightly as if he’d said something ridiculous.
“And there’s more.” Luke knew he had to tell about Amelia’s private life because their grandson was a part of that.
“She goes by the name of Amelia Thurstan.”
They stared at him for a long moment. His dad’s lips tightened, and he looked down at his hands resting on his knees. His mom’s eyes squinted. “They … married?”
“No, Mom. She had his child.”
She repeated, in a raspy voice, “A … child?”
Luke drew in a deep breath and tried to control what he feared would become a heated discussion.
Her eyebrows rose. “Without the benefit of marriage?”
“What is that song you taught me? ‘Jesus loves the little children, all the children of the world. Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight.’ Did He stop when Japan bombed Pearl Harbor? Does He stop loving me—or any of us—when we sin?”
He looked at his dad, who had fought in World War I but didn’t talk about it. His dad spoke forcefully to his wife. “Betty, you and I need to lay down our weapons and put on the armor of God that we’ve read about, talked about, and said we believed in.”
His dad was a soft-spoken man most of the time, but that was said with the ring of authority. His mom lifted her chin and looked as if she might challenge him, but his fixed stare was unwavering.
She looked at Luke. “Is the child a boy or a girl?”
Luke scoffed. “Does it matter?”
“Well yes. I need to know if I should give my grandchild a doll or a baseball.”
A flood of relief swept over him. Luke realized anew the kind of parents he had. They were fair and good, and their lives were ruled by right living.
He pulled out the pictures of Little Joe. His mom and dad passed them back and forth. They both were disbelieving.
Finally his mom shook her head. “Joe?” Her eyes questioned him. “But what is this? This is … Joe.”
“That is Little Joe. Your grandson.”
Her head turned to her husband. “We have a grandson.” The awe in her voice matched that in his dad’s eyes as he reached for her hand and held it in his.
“Not just a grandson,” Luke said. “A whole other family.”
They both nodded slowly.
He wasn’t surprised at his mom’s flooded face. He’d never seen his dad cry before, but he knew the feeling, like he’d done in that yard with his head against his arm, crying against that tree.
Luke went over to them, knelt before them, and they shared the pain, the grief, the joy, the unknown.
The three of them and the mother and child in the pictures, were a family.